


You Make my Dreams Come True

by purple_charlie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, But also a good bro, Fluff, sam is a troll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25838233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_charlie/pseuds/purple_charlie
Summary: While sitting at a diner with the Winchesters, Hall and Oates casts a gloomy cloud over the table.Sam fixes it.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	You Make my Dreams Come True

We’re sitting in yet another diner at the side of a rainy highway, waiting for dinner, when I realize it’s playing. Sam is fiddling with his phone and Dean is practically bouncing in his seat, and neither of them seem to hear the music coming from the scratchy diner speakers.

_ Oh yeah, well well you _

_ You make my dreams come true _

As the lyrics filter through my brain I’m reminded of slim, cool hands and dark curly hair, of long drives on the California coast, of ramen and classical piano and body paint. It’s been almost ten years since he dumped me, but the boppy sound of  _ You Make My Dreams Come True _ still sends a knife twisting into my heart. 

“Ugh, I fucking hate this song.” I grumble into my milkshake, prodding at a fudge chunk with my straw. Sam raises his eyebrows, putting down his phone. 

“Aw, c’mon, kid, Hall and Oates?” Dean nudges me, fingers tapping along to the song, eyes up and sweeping for the waitress. He’d been teetering on hangry for the last thirty miles before the diner, getting more and more jittery as we had to wait for a table. “Even I’ll listen to Hall and Oates every once in a while.”

I just sigh, staring out the window at the damp parking lot, sunset painting the pavement in pinks and oranges. He’d dumped me in a parking lot a lot like the one the Impala was currently sitting in. After one of our drives, he’d parked in a strip mall near his apartment and just talked for half an hour about how his life was going in a different direction than mine. He’d babbled so much that I didn’t even realize he was dumping me until he patted my hand and said  _ Thanks for being so cool about this _ . 

Sam’s foot knocking into mine under the table pulls me from my mopey recollection, and I look up to see a plate of food being slid in front of me, Dean wiggling in the vinyl seat next to me like a toddler.

“Thank you!” He chirps at the waitress, barely letting her hand clear the plate before he dives into the burger. Sam winces apologetically at the waitress- Beverly, according to her name tag- who gives us a wan smile before wandering away. I glance up at Sam, who rolls his eyes at Dean, shrugging in a  _ what can you do? _ sort of way.

“You ok?” He murmurs, hazel eyes boring into mine. My shoulder lifts in a halfhearted shrug, and Dean even pauses in his inhaling to glance at me.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I start to pick at my chicken sandwich, scooting some fries around my plate. I’m suddenly not very hungry. “I just- I really do hate that song.”

Dean nods slowly, looking like he doesn’t get it at all, but Sam tilts his head, pursing his lips for a moment before standing and striding away.

“Dude, your rabbit food!” Dean yells, gesturing at the plate of salad and roasted chicken Sam had ordered. But Sam has turned around the corner of the counter, no longer in eyesight, and Dean huffs, shaking his head. “Whatever.”

Dean leaves me be, practically making out with his burger while Sam is gone for a few minutes. I’m a little bit wary of what Sam is doing, because the bathrooms are in the opposite direction he had headed. I eat a few fries, take some more sips of my milkshake. When Sam comes back into sight he’s got a twinkle in his eye, but slides back into the booth without saying anything to either of us and tucks into his food. He doesn’t make eye contact with me for a few moments until a horn blast sounds from the speakers, making me jump.

_ What's new pussycat, whoa! _

_ What's new pussycat, whoa, oh whoa! _

Sam snorts, ducking his head, hair falling to cover his face like a curtain. 

“Something funny, Sammy?” Dean grumbles in his  _ done with this shit _ voice. He’s almost finished with his burger already. Sam just grins at him, shaking his head. “Whatever.” Dean sighs, but Sam winks at me before taking a particularly crunchy bite of salad. I arch an eyebrow at him but don’t really feel like digging into whatever weird Sam thing he’s doing. I just want to eat and find the next motel with a bed and a shower. 

I drift off into my thoughts as I eat my sandwich, not even really tasting it. That stupid song always sends me into a funk, no matter how long it’s been since I’ve heard it. I’d started hunting right after the breakup, digging too far into what the police had called a mugging gone wrong that had killed my best friend from college. What with searching for the vampires that had killed her and then getting sucked into the hunting world, I hadn’t had the time or the emotional batteries to pursue a relationship again. Not to mention the fact that dating anyone was pretty much impossible if you went the road I did, hopping from town to town and ganking anything that bumped in the night. These two goobers in the diner booth with me were the closest thing I’d had to friends in most of a decade, after they saved my sorry ass from a vamp’s nest six months ago. They’d brought me back to Lebanon to patch me up and I’d just never left. So now here we were, sitting in a diner while I wallowed over an 80’s pop song. 

Sam knocks my foot again and I glare up at him, frustration fizzling under my skin. Dean is poking around on his phone, paying neither of us any attention while he nurses his beer. Sam’s got a little smirk on his face now, and points up at the ceiling. 

_ Pussycat, pussycat, I love you yes I do! _

_ You and your pussycat lips -whoa, oh whoa! _

_ You and your pussycat eyes -whoa, oh whoa! _

It’s the same song that scared me before I started eating, but that had to have been ten minutes ago-

“Sam-Sam, oh my god-” I whisper, covering my mouth with both hands. “You didnt-”

“I did.” He giggles-  _ giggles-  _ and twists around in his seat to look out at the diner. This makes Dean perk up, and he gives us a questioning grunt. 

“Listen!” I hiss, swatting at Dean’s arm. He scowls and glances up at the ceiling, shrugging. 

“Tom Jones. Kinda lame, why?”

Sam just waggles his eyebrows and settles back into the booth, his back against the wall, long legs stretched out on the seat. The diner isn’t packed, it’s the middle of the week in fall, but there’s enough people scattered about that we can see the effects of what Sam’s done. A large family is sitting in a corner booth on the other side of the room, and the mom looks like she’s barely holding onto sanity, the poor thing. The song winds down, only to burst back into life, and she just shudders and drops her face into her hands. I only feel a little bit bad for her- her kids have been screaming the whole time they’ve been in the diner. At the counter, a man in his fifties is grinding his teeth, hands clenched on the formica. Beverly the waitress visibly twitches when the chorus comes back around, her eyes wide behind cat-eye glasses. 

“Sammy.” Dean groans, dragging his hand down his face. “What did you  _ do? _ ”

Sam sniggers into his fist when the song starts over one more time, eyes sparkling when he smirks at me. There’s a loud curse from the kitchen, followed by the sounds of a plate breaking.

“I’m goin’ to the car, I can’t take much more of this.” Dean grumbles, reaching for his wallet. Sam holds up a hand, shaking his head.

“No, no, c’mon.” He laughs. “Just a couple more minutes, it’s gonna get better.”

Beverly makes another round towards us, her smile tight on her face.

“Anything else I can get for you folks?” She grits out. Sam asks for another cup of coffee, grinning, and Dean just sighs, shaking his head. Beverly points at my half-finished sandwich. “Want a box for that?” 

“Sure, thanks.” I smile in her direction, unable to make eye contact for fear of bursting out laughing. 

And then the song changes. 

_ It's not unusual to be loved by anyone _

_ It's not unusual to have fun with anyone _

_ But when I see you hanging about with anyone _

_ It's not unusual to see me cry, I wanna die _

“Oh thank Christ.” Beverly sighs, visibly relaxing. Sam snorts and tries to turn it into a cough, hiding his face in his elbow. Beverly just shakes her head and walks away, muttering under her breath.

“I cannot believe you did this!” I hiss at Sam, watching the entire restaurant heave a sigh of relief. “Did you do the full thing?”

Sam nods again, Dean closing his eyes and shaking his head. Beverly brings Sam’s coffee and my box, and Dean hands off the check. As Beverly walks away again, the music dies down. 

The whole diner holds its collective breath, Sam sniggering into his coffee cup.

_ What's new pussycat, whoa! _

_ What's new pussycat, whoa, oh whoa! _

Counter Guy curses loudly, slamming his hands on the counter. There’s another crash from the kitchen, and Beverly crosses herself before stomping around the corner, presumably to deal with the jukebox. Sam has now dissolved into laughter, slumped over the table, and even Dean has started to snicker. The music cuts off with a screech, and another relieved sigh washes over the room. 

Then the door to the kitchen bangs open, and one of the cooks comes barging over to our table, face red.

“You assholes!” He barks, shaking a fist at us. “You mother fuckers better-”

And that’s as far as he gets before Sam and Dean rise out of their seats. Sam just gives the cook a grin full of teeth, and Dean cocks an eyebrow. He pales at their size, blinking at Sam.

“You-you three-”

“We’re leaving now, c'mon guys.” I grab an arm on each brother and scoot them out the door, avoiding looking at any of the other people scattered in the booths. As the bell tinkles behind us, an old country song warbles through the speakers. 

We manage to get back to the car before we share a look and all fall against the Impala, laughing until we can’t breathe. Dean runs a hand through his hair, green eyes sparkling with the light from the streetlights. 

“Oh man, I never thought I’d enjoy Tom Jones so much.” He high fives Sam, still leaning against the passenger side door. “We forgot your box though.”

I shrug, cheeks sore from laughing, meeting Sam’s eye. He grins at me, simple and sweet. Dean pats my shoulder, still chuckling, before rounding the car to get into the drive's side door. Sam steps closer to me and reaches out, slips his hand into mine. 

"Feel better?" He squeezes my hand, and my stomach flips.

"Yeah. Thanks." Before I have a chance to overthink it, I reach up onto my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. He looks stunned for a moment before a smile like a sunrise blooms on his face. He opens my door for me with a ridiculous flourish and I slide into the Impala, Dean shooting a smile over his shoulder at me. Sam drops in next to him and fiddles with the radio. 

I’m so glad I found these two dorks. Our lives are full of blood and death and heartbreak, it’s nice to have dumb little moments in a diner on the side of the road with your two best friends who will harass an entire restaurant just to make you smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I really do hate You Make my Dreams Come True, it really does remind me of an ex. It keeps coming on at work and I keep wanting to set the building on fire.
> 
> Also, if you've never heard John Mulaney's Salt and Pepper Diner bit this won't make any sense to you. Go rectify that immediately if you haven't listened to it already.


End file.
